


Fireworks

by Ainikki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fireworks, Fluff and Smut, Fourth of July, M/M, No Angst, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 12:37:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11509584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ainikki/pseuds/Ainikki
Summary: Shortly after Sam's rescue from Hell by Gabriel, Bobby, the Winchesters, and Castiel decide to put on a Fourth of July celebration, complete with fireworks. It doesn't go entirely as planned. Sequel/bonus chapter to "What You Need Most" but can be read alone.





	Fireworks

Sam's fiddling with the dials and cursing while Bobby and Rufus shout encouragement from behind. Dean hears their voices carry clearly; the sky is empty and the dusk is eerily still, expectant. It's the Fourth of July, and Sam had wanted to put on a fireworks show. Dean would have preferred a pre-fab one that they have in cities and at lakefronts or some such, but Sam wouldn't hear of it.

"We should celebrate," he'd said. "Really celebrate. Just us this year. I think we deserve it."

Dean had shrugged and let him have his way. Bobby had military and construction buddies that allowed them to rip off a light show panel for the day, and Dean and Cas had been sent for the fireworks themselves—bottle rockets, puff-ball fireworks with flower names, pharaoh's snakes, everything legal (and a few nice illegal ones kicked in by Bobby's friends in construction). 

Cas had eyed their cart with apprehension. "You are aware that these compounds were used as weapons in the ancient world."

"Yep," Dean had answered brightly, adding three six-packs to their haul. "And that's half the fun of blowing them up now."

Castiel had appeared confused, then placed more combustible tubes in the cart. Dean hadn't bothered to check which kind of fireworks they were. They'd paid with Sam's credit card—"Uncle Sam's awful generous," Dean had said, winking to an overtired and clearly drunk clerk—and headed back to the car. 

When they'd gotten home around three, Sam had been fiddling with the light panel alone, and it is past eight now. Dean had tried to help for a while, but the innards of the panel are more computer-like than car-like, so he'd let himself be relieved by Bobby and gone to have a cold one with Rufus and Cas. Eventually Rufus had been sucked into the madness, so now it's just him and Cas sitting on a black-and-red checked flannel picnic blanket a few hundred feet away from the light panel, waiting for nightfall. 

His beer is empty; he lays the bottle to the side, in the grass. He slaps at his arm where a mosquito has landed, and squints where Sam is, a tall shadow in the growing dark. The pile of fireworks behind him that hasn't been staged is comically huge. It's going to be quite a show—assuming Sam can get the panel working. 

There's an oak tree behind the picnic blanket Dean's sitting on, but Cas is already leaning against it. He's in his shirtsleeves, coat discarded, shoes and socks off, knees pulled up to his chest. He looks disconcertingly human. If he'd been sweating in the least, Dean would have accused him of going full mortal again.

Dean sighs and stretches himself out completely on the blanket, looking at the stars as they appear. 

"I've never seen fireworks from this close a distance," Cas says, his voice emerging out the dark. "Is Sam sure this is safe?"

Dean smiles. "If it's not, Bobby's got a ton of extinguishers on hand," he says. "We'll be fine."

Castiel makes a sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh. "Uriel was stationed in China, when fireworks were new. He taught them how to mix the colors using metal. They were—" Castiel pauses. "Enthusiastic. Too much so. Uriel credited himself with burning the palace down. I asked for that story a lot."

"Why?"

Castiel shrugged. "I had only ever seen fireworks—and fire—from the sky. I liked hearing how they were made. And I liked seeing humans try to harness tools of destruction for peaceful celebration. It was an interesting change."

"Even if it led to destruction anyway? That place did burn down."

A pause. "True," Castiel says. "But most human decisions lead to destruction, in the end. I suppose it's the thought that counts."

The silence that follows this statement is profound. Dean hears the first crickets of the night begin their tune, and it sounds like the loudest thing in the world. The stars peek out above him, appearing one by one like candles lit in the sky. 

Cas's face appears above him upside-down, obstructing his view of the heavens. "What are you doing?"

"Watchin' the stars," Dean says. He swats another mosquito, but is otherwise entirely relaxed. Sam and Bobby had stopped cursing some time ago. He hears Rufus scream, "Fuck!" Otherwise there is no commentary from the peanut gallery. 

Cas smiles, wide and full of teeth, and then climbs into Dean's lap, hips straddling his, and Dean half-sits up automatically, a little stunned. Cas' coat had been off before, and now his shirt is, too. Old scars gleam in the dark; he's tempted to run his fingers over them but keeps his hands still. "What," he asks, "are _you_ doing?" 

Cas gives him a wicked grin and leans forward, placing a kiss to the side of his neck. "Obvious answer."

"What the hell?" Dean asks, his breath huffing against Cas' hair, hands skating across his bare skin. "My brother, Bobby, and Rufus are literally right over there."

"Then we'll have to be quiet," Cas says, breaking away less than an inch and pushing his hips forward. He braces one hand on Dean's shoulder, snaking the other down Dean's chest to the waistband of his jeans and popping the button open on the second try.

"Human clothes are infuriating," Castiel says, then slides his mouth across Dean's. When he starts to pull away, Dean follows, prolonging the kiss; his hands settle across Cas' back and pull him closer.

There's a loud _bang_ from Sam's direction, and Dean hears Sam cry, "Shit! God damn it!"

Dean breaks away from Cas--who growls in frustration--and calls, "You okay, Sammy?" His voice isn't that much different, yet. Cas uses the distraction to slip his hand into Dean's boxer briefs, and he bites his lip to stifle a groan.

"Fine," Sam calls back. "Rufus is a complete moron."

"Am not, boy!"

"Yes, you are!"

Dean doesn't have the concentration to spare for their bickering. Sam is fine. He brings up one of his arms and pulls Cas closer; Cas gasps into his mouth and jerks his hips forward hard.

"I hear you, hang on," Dean says, pulling the hand braced across Cas' back forward to undo Cas' pants as well. "This has gotta be fast."

"I'm not the one slowing us down," Cas snaps back, pissy, and it almost makes Dean laugh, but instead he seals their lips together and slips his tongue into Cas' mouth. 

They haven't done this sort of thing too often, yet, but Dean knows Cas likes to be as close as possible during sex, so he's obliging him in the hopes of avoiding another Very Embarrassing Situation. His brother and Bobby have tolerated enough from them for him not to worry much about them, but Rufus is another matter entirely.

He gets Cas' dress pants open and pulls out his cock, already half-hard. He shifts, breaking the kiss, and Cas whines a little but moves with him. He lines up their cocks, touching and sliding past one another in the semi-darkness, and adjusts his grip to get them both partially in hand. Cas mimics him, and they begin and unsteady and uncoordinated rhythm that makes Dean, already hot because it's fucking July, feel like his blood is boiling.

Castiel lets out a frustrated grunt and pushes closer, burying his face in Dean's neck, and Dean arches back, giving him more room. His free hand braces them both on the ground; he moves it closer, allowing them a better angle to fit together. 

Cas' hand lingers at the tip of his cock for a little too long, upsetting their rhythm, and Dean comes, choking back the sound by kissing Castiel full on the mouth. Cas opens for him and follows a few seconds later, coating the picnic blanket with a few hectic splashes of come.

Dean does not want to clean that up, or explain it to whoever does.

Then he remembers that Cas is an angel and can clean it up himself, without even leaving any incriminating stains.

That's awesome.

Dean collapses on his back on the blanket again, and Cas lies next to him, arms touching as they breathe together and come down. Everything in Dean's body tingles. He's not used to it, feeling so good. He could fall asleep, right here.

"Guys!" Sam says behind them, voice clear as a bell in the dark. "We got it! It's starting!"

A whirring, whistling sound cuts through the air like shrapnel, sharp and worrying, making Dean recall what Cas had said about these things once being weapons. The firework arcs upward, and Dean loses sight of it for a moment, until it explodes outward, a hundred dots of blue-green light that shimmer and start to fall, leaving a shape that reminds Dean of a weeping willow.

Dean lets out a whoop-like cheer, but doesn't sit up. He's too comfortable. "Good job, Sammy!"

Sam laughs, a clean sound, and Dean closes his eyes. This is nice. Sam has the best ideas.

Another firework goes off—another blue one, and this time when it explodes the sparks fly away from the center, serpentine, hissing. The boom from this one is louder, and Dean spares a thought toward earplugs. Eh, no point. He's half-deaf from guns anyway.

Lacing his fingers behind his head, he pulls himself up a little bit. Cas follows, leaning on his elbows.

When the next firework comes up blue, he glances at Cas sidelong. "How many of these are blue?"

"Roughly ninety percent."

"And the rest?"

"Green."

"Why?"

Cas shrugs, his shoulder bumping Dean's. "I like them, and Sam didn't specify a color preference."

Dean grins as two giant willow-like fireworks spread into the sky, leaving thin trails of smoke in their wake. "Red, white, and blue is traditional, y'know."

"I'm not American."

"True." Dean wipes sweat off his forehead and covers his eyes with his fingers, bracing himself on his free arm. "What makes them blue?"

"What?"

"You said you knew—Uriel taught people how to make colors. What makes them blue?" Dean uncovers his eyes and settles both hands at his sides, elbows keeping him upright a little, mimicking Cas' posture. 

Castiel drops his chin to his chest and breathes out. "Copper," he says easily, brushing his arm against Dean's where they lie parallel. "Barium is green."

"Does knowing the chemistry behind fireworks make them less…fun? Magical?" Dean shifts marginally closer. The sweat has cooled him down, and he wants heat again.

Castiel tilts Dean's head toward him in the dark, hand pulling at his chin so that they're staring at each other, the blue of the fireworks mirrored in Cas' eyes. "No," Castiel says as he settles his hand on Dean's chest. "It's the opposite."

**Author's Note:**

> I know I should be working on _The Man and the Monster_ , but the angst is making me depressed and the happy ending doesn't come about for a very long time, so take a PWP from the sunny AU I invented where season 12 emphatically did not happen.
> 
> Also, this is my first PWP, making my corruption by the internet complete. :)


End file.
